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Match Point
A
very good yet extremely eccentric melodrama about social strivers and sexual hypocrisy,
Woody Allen's Match Point (***) transposes the fixations that usually
nest in his wealth-centric Manhattan to the upper-crust of London, with intriguing
results. While there are fine affinities one might credit to predecessors like
French director Claude Chabrol, novelist Patricia Highsmith and
the name-checked F. Dostoevsky, Match Point fascinates mostly for
its otherworldliness, where behavior and performance is less "bad" than
entertainingly strange. The best movies by David Mamet are the ones that
are entirely in a unique zone that you could call Mamet-land, movies such as Spartan
or House of Games, which are almost lunar in their strangeness. One of
the factors in Match Point's compulsive watchability may be Allen's reputed
unwillingness to reconcile performances within a film-that is, he casts an actor
or actress like Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Scarlett Johansson, Emily Mortimer, Matthew
Goode, Brian Cox or Penelope Wilton-and then allows them to do what
they do naturally with an extensive supply of rope on hand. Thus, Rhys Meyers'
striver, an Irish tennis pro who marries into money, is a cool creep, missing
social signals like the King of All Asperger's; Emily Mortimer is flittery-fidgety-charming-insecure,
from another world; American bounder Johansson is a husky-voiced lush and harridan
in the making, but one that has the actress' customary fire. Like real people,
behaviors clash with unexpected sparks; unlike real people, they speak in spurts
of Allen's dour, gnomic thought. And then you realize: jeez, these banalities
suit them and these performances are out of control within a supremely genteel
production. This may not be Allen's intention, but the result is interesting stuff
and the spirals of "explanation" toward the end make a pleasing coda.
124m.
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December 28, 2005 Starring:
Brian Cox, Matthew Goode, |
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